


Heat, Heaven, and Her

by jadzeanna



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: F/F, First Time, Gagh, Speculative Cardassian Anatomy, almost porn without plot but then plot happened, based on the last two tags you can get where this is going, of the tentacle vagina variety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 00:50:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14225520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jadzeanna/pseuds/jadzeanna
Summary: It's dinner at the Klingon restaurant. Gilora loves alien experiences. Ulani loves watching her.





	Heat, Heaven, and Her

Gilora eats the gagh sensually, caressing it with both hands and then slurping a worm into her mouth. Her tongue darts out to lick at the next one, and she meets my eyes. I smirk at her, waiting, and she puts the entire handful of worms into her mouth. The slippery tendrils look like something else in that moment – something obscene – and I feel a wriggling stir up between my legs. Her eyes flutter shut as she shamelessly savors the wriggling sensation, and I feel a wriggling stir up between my legs.

It makes me think of her exploration of my body. When we first became more than acquaintances, almost two years ago now. She defended me in front of the council of the science ministry when no one else would. Her hair was pinned up in the elite fashion, and everything about her mannerisms screamed good breeding. She held her head high, refused to let me be condescended to, even for my own rightful failure. A half hour hearing was all the time I needed to fall in love.

She was known for rejecting suitors, for having impossibly high expectations of the men who never ceased to woo her. She had a genteel charm that nobody could resist. Common knowledge said pursuing her was an exercise in futility, in loving the sun and hoping not to be burned. My qualifications were less than most. The child of a Lakarian schoolteacher, fancying a minister's daughter? I was not her equal, would never be.

And yet she came to me after the hearing. Asked me about my project, invited me to join her at the lakeside restaurant. Shared with me her dreams of leaving Cardassia, of seeing the galaxy for herself one day. I told her I wanted to go somewhere society is different, where our class weren't a barrier between us. She teased me about forgetting the Order was listening, but squeezed my knee under the table.

Then later, when we were alone, she let me take each pin out of her silk-smooth black hair. Let me touch her scalp, her neck. Held my cheek in the palm of her hand, stroked my temple gently, and I melted into her. I pressed my forehead to hers, and saw her smile for the first time. In that moment, as in every moment since, I wanted nothing more than to be the cause of that smile.

Without removing our foreheads, she reached her hands around my back and began to unfasten my tunic. I gripped at her shoulders, firmly squeezed at her neck ridges to let her know that yes, I wanted this, more than she could know.

She undressed me, then pushed me gently away as she took off her own tunic, undershirt, brassiere. I reached to remove her pants, and she pushed me back onto the bed, my legs still hanging off the edge.

"I prefer you like this," she said, and I couldn't help but agree.

She bit at my neck, at my collarbone, at my breast, and I arched my body to meet her, to take whatever pleasure and pain her mouth would give me. She stroked my collarbone with a finger as she brought her ear between my breasts to hear the rumbling of pleasure-desire-need in my chest, then bit down on the soft tissue of my breast hard enough to hurt, hard enough to make me crave her, to make me need her to fuck me, rough and hard.

And then her head sunk lower - biting at my hip, causing me to claw helplessly at the mattress, then the soft flesh of my inner thigh, causing me to shift my hips and try to press myself towards her.

She lifted her head to look up at me, and I suddenly felt a different kind of heat darken my forehead and neck. I was being shameless to her, to Gilora, the regal minister’s daughter with meticulously proper language and dress and unforgiving exacting standards.

She saw this, and reached her hand up to mine, tracing my fingers with her own, pressing her palm against mine.

"I'm here because I want you. Don't worry about offering yourself to me," she whispered in a voice clear as silk.

She kissed my hip, then traced a line of kisses toward my pubic spoon. She dipped her tongue in the crevice and I felt myself begin to bloom, but held it in with considerable effort. I wanted to give her only the best of me, not the filthy parts. I didn't want to give her a face full of tentacle - familiar as it might be to any practiced sapphist, it was considered rude, obscene. You might ask: is it not obscene to perform oral sex at all? It is, of course, but it is far less obscene to delicately nibble and lick than it is to dive into the moist messy parts.

But when she kissed down from my spoon to my hot, engorged, waiting cunt, when she bit sharply at my labia and then slipped her tongue inside, when I felt the cool rough texture of her tongue against my inner tendrils, I couldn't help it. I cried out in pleasure as the outer ring of tentacles pushed themselves from my body, as they gripped and caressed her tongue. Once they everted it was all over, I had no more self control to speak of. I pressed my cunt against her sweet mouth, whining and gasping, begging her not to stop. And where I expected reticence, she obliged me. She dove into me like she didn’t care if she drowned. I felt pressure begin to build in my core and tangled my fingers tightly in her hair. Her fingers pressed around my opening and her teeth grazed my tendrils. Her tongue dipped in again, then turned to pull a few tentacles into her mouth, sucking and licking at them, intertwining her tongue. I gripped at her chin with the other tentacles, and felt a finger slip inside me.

Everything was heat, and heaven, and her.

Then I felt her teeth graze against one of the tendrils, and the heat turned into a fire. I'm not ashamed to admit that the rumbling in my chest rose three octaves to a wavering high note. She didn't have a cock for me to milk the seed out of and still I felt myself squeeze, clench at her tongue and her hand, try to draw them into me. She just moaned, pressed into me with as much of both as I could take, sucked back at my tendrils to keep the sensation fresh, and I squeezed harder, milking every last drop of sensation that I could until, despite hardly having moved, I collapsed.

She gently withdrew her fingers, kissed up the center of my body, from my pubic spoon up my stomach, between my breasts, to my chest spoon, up the front of my neck to my chin, my lips, my nose, and finally my forehead spoon. Her arm wrapped around my waist, she pressed her forehead into my neck and fell asleep.

The next morning, I helped pin her hair up, and kissed the back of her neck before she slipped on her high-necked tunic. She looked in my eyes, carefully, asking what we were to each other without saying it. I answered by bowing my head to her.

_I am yours._

And since then, I always have been.

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE let me know if you know whose idea the "cardassian vaginas have tentacles in them" idea was, because it stuck in my head and forced me to write this but I can't for the life of me seem to find the original post.


End file.
